


the right place, the right time

by ikmkr



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Consensual Sex, Despair, Despair Era (Dangan Ronpa), Drug Use, Hook-Up, Implied/Referenced Bad Coping Mechanisms, Izuru has a need and Nagito’s just smoking weed, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Night Stands, POV Second Person, Recreational Drug Use, Second Person Narrator, Unreliable Narrator, if this is ooc and disgusting just say i warned you, implied/referenced past trauma, this is not a /reader fic if you insist it is i’ll eat your socks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 08:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21389080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikmkr/pseuds/ikmkr
Summary: Your name is Izuru Kamukura, and you have a need.Nagito Komaeda is outside, smoking weed.Perfect.
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Kudos: 94





	the right place, the right time

**Author's Note:**

> no kiyo this does _not_ read like homestuck i will not take this shit from you
> 
> what possessed me to write this  
what,
> 
> enjoy

It was dusk. You were a young man, twenty-one years old, and you were about to do something you might regret.

You had an itch in your bones, a desire for something. Maybe you were bored. Maybe it was your programming screaming at you again, to fulfill the desires of others. Or maybe it was _ your _desires. It all melded together in your head into one great entity, a demanding thing, begging you to subside it. You never let it show on your face, but you could not control the flush, your breathing or the way your legs shook as you walked in a way you’d be ashamed of if you realized you were walking in that fashion.

The world had ended a long time ago. There was nobody here to judge you aside from yourself, and those who you took company with. You despised your actions, but nobody else dared to despise you to your face, freeing your to continue to do what you always did. You knew, of course, what you were doing to yourself. You never stopped doing this to yourself.

And suddenly, you found yourself too distracted by the feeling running across your body to even think about that anymore. You felt like you were going to collapse. You _ needed _it. Your supernova of a brain was condensed down the the most base of needs, and you were absolutely disgusting and you revelled in it. 

Not even your greatest self-control could save you now, not as if it was at your disposal right now, while your breath was labored, panting, sweat rolling down your forehead. You stumbled outside, warily glancing behind you to make sure nobody was watching, and decided to look for a fix.

You didn’t have to look far. He was smoking pot outside, not a care in the world as he lazily exhaled a cloud of smoke, the muscles in his neck tensing as he swallowed. He was looking at the sky, most likely lost in thought, that chain clinking ambiently as it shifted with the wind. He also appeared to have been out here for quite a bit, and was most likely higher than a kite, judging by how oddly serene he looked. 

You noted that he just so happened to be in the right place at the right time again, granted that your suspicions of his attraction towards you were actually correct. You examined his slight, slanting frame, noting how your legs trembled even more. You loosened your tie. SHSL Luck was about to get lucky.

You tried your very hardest to slide up next to him on the large piece of concrete he was situated on quietly. It was a flat slab, the flat portion slanted into the ground, the front end supported by some large rocks. A building used to be here. Judging by how it fell, it used to be… ah, you can’t think. You strode over on fawn legs and sat down, nestling your head into his shoulder, trying not to drool on his jacket.

“Ah, Kamukura,” he noted. “Such good luck…” His voice was mellowed out, most likely from the weed he was smoking, and he absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair. You inwardly cursed. You didn’t want his hands in your hair, you wanted them on your thighs as he fucked you to oblivion. 

You said nothing, your hand finding itself tracing his chest, fingers carefully pressing at the spots you instinctively knew to press. You were rewarded with a heady, low gasp that came from the back of the servant’s throat, smelling of marijuana. Your mouth, on the other hand, locked itself on his neck, sucking and biting his cool, pale skin. You wondered when he’d shove you off, but when he didn’t, pants evidently tightening, you stopped, looking up at him.

“Nagito Komaeda,” you said, voice breathless, “why do you not fight me off?”

Komaeda’s grey eyes, normally clear, were dazed-looking, his gaze almost reverent of you. You felt absolutely filthy, disgusting, but he looked at you like you were the greatest gift he’d ever been given, a hunger deep in their mossy stone pits. One of his hands, the one not in the glove, was tracing your hip, and you knew he’d grab it. You absolutely wanted it. You wanted him to make you regret this, wanted him to free you, to make you forget your shame for just a moment in time, suspended to his touch. You wanted to feel his _ love _. 

“Kamukura,” he exhaled, almost like a prayer, smoke still finding its way out of his mouth, misty wisps dissipating in the autumn air. “Kamukura…”

You huffed impatiently, and leaned into him, your mouth finding itself by his ear, breath hot and wet. “Do you want this…?” you whispered, your words a dirty promise. “I want this. I want all,” you continued, your hand, long nails still bearing a bit of chipped black nail polish, tracing his groin as emphasis, “of _ this. _ ” You squeezed his dick through his jeans to punctuate that, and he groaned into the open air, only loud enough for you to hear. “I want you to _ take _me, Komaeda. I bet you’d do a better job than any of those men.”

You were flattering him, of course, he was not any better at _ that _ sort of thing than any of the people you had slept with for duty purposes, but his personality was remarkable. At least you would remember or even bother to learn his name, unlike the rest of them. However, despite the half-truth, this seemed to interest Komaeda, the opportunity to outperform the _ “talentless scum” _(or maybe, he was purely being possessive), and he reacted in kind, a noticeable shiver running down his spine at the words.

Oh, and you wanted him to get on with it. You’d situated yourself on his thigh, grinding against him already. You wished you had more control, but the idea of control sickened you. The thought disappeared as quickly as it appeared, your body shuddering yet again as you moved, throwing off your jacket and undoing a few buttons on your shirt. You needed to not think.

You glanced back at Komaeda again. He was watching you, hand on your hip moving, tracing it gently. You shivered at his ministrations, gaze heavy, urging. 

“Can I…” he whispered under his breath, “can I touch you?”

“Please,” you replied, your voice still irritatingly breathy. “Please, Komaeda, please.”

God, you were being loud. You swore at yourself under your breath, a strangled, “_ fuck, _” that could’ve been from shame or maybe just arousal. “Please, Komaeda.”

Upon given permission, Komaeda finally grabbed you, both hands gripping your waist as he flipped you, your back almost slamming against the concrete slab. You cried out in delight, writhing shamelessly as Komaeda’s hips fit between your legs, your ankles locking behind his back, trapping him in your grasp. He locked his lips against yours, your mouths fighting, tongues wrestling as a mix of your saliva and his leaked from your mouths. It was messy and dirty and you couldn’t care less.

He stopped to fling off his jacket, then his shirt, and you groaned in approval at the sight of his chest. He was skinny, yes, but everyone was, and after you had done your best to cure the lymphoma ravaging his system (it wouldn’t do to have any of the remnants dying, now would it, that’s an inconvenience to your major life goals at the moment), he’d gained _ some _muscle from all the running around you had all been doing. He wasn’t perfect, wasn’t a model, but you loved it anyways, loved the way you could just see his abdominal muscles, loved the way his spine just barely jutted out of his back when he bent over you. While you admired him, he fiddled with your belt buckle, undoing it just to nearly tear your pants off of you as he slid them down your legs with an impatience you didn’t know he was capable of.

“Get on with it,” you hissed, undoing the rest of your shirt and sliding it off of you, not even caring that you were now completely bared to him. “Hurry, please—“

He paused. It occurred to you that he’d never seen you nude before this. You subconsciously moved a hand to cover up your shoulder. “Don’t read it,” you advised him.

“I’m not,” he responded, a touch of indignation just audible in his voice. 

“You are not doing anything,” you accused. You were painfully erect at this point, and it was obvious, considering you were all spread out for him underneath him. “Ask me later, god—“

He was merciful, and finally went back to servicing you, cutting you off with your own noises. You cursed at yourself in your head as you let out soft sounds at his attentions, gasps laced with the quietest of moans as his hand found itself on your dick, squeezing at the head as he undid his fly.

He wet his fingers in his mouth and traced them around your entrance, eyes still watching your face. You just barely noticed him, realizing he was being careful. You growled in distaste at how fragile he must think you are, cursing the long-dead Enoshima under your breath for everything she did to you before reaching down and pulling his hand towards you, your ass pulling him inside, causing you to gasp quietly. Surprised by your aggression, he faltered, but when you gave him a glare, he continued.

“You certainly are demanding,” he noted as he fucked you on his fingers. You grabbed onto him, only whining quietly in response. You wanted another finger already. This wasn’t _ enough _. You could feel him twisting and pulling inside you, searching for that spot, the one that made you cry in the hands of strangers, and it was driving you mad. Your nails pulled at the skin on his back as his free hand pushed your thigh against your chest.

“Nagito,” you gasped, “please,”

“You want more?” he questioned, teasing you with that infuriating grin of his. “Is this boring you, Kamukura? Are you bored?”

“No, no, m’ not,” you begged between gasps, giving up your dignity for this one moment, “please, more, please, take me,”

“Mmm… anything for my Ultimate Hope,” he purred. He slipped not one, but _ two _ more fingers inside you, and you keened joyously at that, not expecting the extra finger. Everything was pleasantly unexpected when your brain was too busy categorizing every little sensation you were feeling, your higher cognition erased by this pervasive feeling of sex and lust and _ god, please, more, right there— _

He’d hit just the right spot and you’d blanked out. Satisfied by your response, he kept going at that for a bit, making sure you wouldn’t get hurt. It annoyed you; you’d rather have him railing you to no tomorrow, and this _ wasn’t _ that. You could handle it, you’d done it before, you’d even taken _ multiple— _ this was nothing to you and you were _ desperate. _ However, he just kept on at his leisure, treating you carefully, and you nearly growled in frustration. Only after he was _ absolutely certain _ that you were ready did he pull himself out of his pants, and lined himself up with your entrance.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Nagito asked.

You nearly slapped him. “Nagito Komaeda,” you growled, yanking him towards you by the chain attached to his collar, “if you do not hurry the hell up, I am going to leave you here with a hard-on and find someone else to fuck. That in mind, I suggest you stop flapping your gums and start making me see stars.”

He swallowed, clearly intimidated, and he flushed, clearly aroused by the intimidation. “Well,” he whispered, voice soft, just above the shell of your earlobe, “if that’s what my hope so desires, I’ll just have to give it to him.”

God if the words alone didn’t make you squirm already. You rubbed your thighs together when he gently pushed the tip of his cock against your ass, impatient for him. He smirked at your reaction, and without warning, pushed your thigh against you yet again as he slammed into you.

If you heard the sound you made in that instant, you would’ve felt nothing but hot shame, but you didn’t care. He was inside you and _ oh god, _you wanted more of that. Your body was on fire, the electric shocks of pleasure you felt as he lazily thrust into you reducing you to nothing but a moaning mess. You were limp, muscles jelly as his dick thrust in and out of you, unable to close your mouth and muffle the pleased, pleasure-filled sounds that escaped your mouth as he fucked you.

Your partner was none too quiet either. “You’re so good,” Nagito groaned under his breath, breathing ragged as he thrust into you over and over, breath hitching when you clenched against him by reflex. “God, Kamukura, you’re so good, you know that? You’re perfect. I’ve wanted to do this to you for so long.”

You knew this, but the praise felt _ good, _and you only let out a string of sobbing moans in response. “Please,” you slurred, “more. I need, more, faster—“

He obeyed, finally lost enough in the sensation of being inside you to ignore your well being. You praised yourself on your work. “God, you’re so fucking good,” he groaned. “So tight, so perfect… your expressions, your sounds… it’s as if I'm dreaming, aha.” Even the low, breathless chuckle he made was attractive. 

Your hands scratched at the slab of concrete beneath you as your legs hooked behind his back, pulling him in. He fucked you at a ruthless pace, cock slamming inside you with an aggression that made your back arch and your toes curl with each thrust. Your mind was filled with a pink haze, the ecstasy chasing away your fear. You called out to him, begging, pleading; he pressed his lips against yours, muffling your sounds just for a second before those lips moved down to your collarbone, marking you as he whispered sweet praises under his breath between groans.

Your hand moved down to stroke yourself, your fingers shaky as you jerked yourself off. Komaeda glared at that, and grabbed your hand, pinning it against the rock. You whined at him, and he used his free hand to jerk you off, making sure the movements of his hand matched the timing of his thrusts. Pleased, you melted back into submission, legs trembling. 

Komaeda’s pace was absolutely punishing, your body slamming against the concrete with each thrust. You writhed and moaned as he absolutely had his way with you. You couldn’t think. It was everything you wanted. You were so close, and you just wanted _ release— _

“Nagito, please,” you sobbed, your voice slurred and pleasure-filled, “‘m close, please, don’t stop,”

“I know,” he whispered back to you. “Come for me, Kamukura.”

So with a strangled cry, you did, your vision going white as you came all over your stomach. You could feel Komaeda’s release inside you too, warm and sticky. You shuddered at the sensation of his come coating your insides, and you gripped at Komaeda’s back as he collapsed onto you, absolutely spent.

The both of you were breathing heavily, thin chests rising and falling. As you blinked, your vision cleared; you instantly felt absolutely disgusting. You needed a bath and some hot tea, and maybe a blanket. You made a disgruntled noise, but Komaeda hushed you, his fingers running through your long, tangled hair. His nails felt lovely on your scalp, and you settled down, if only for a moment.

You glanced out of the corner of your eye. Your boxers and pants were just a couple feet away from the concrete, lying undisturbed in the evening light. Your jacket, tie and shirt were similarly situated, also undisturbed; a quick visual once-over revealed little to no damage. Alright, good on you, no sewing tonight. You allowed yourself a small smile to that.

Komaeda was…

He sat bolt upright, swearing. “Oh god,” he whispered, horrified.

“What is the matter?” you queried, back to your usual, collected self.

“I broke the rule. I wasn’t supposed to say yes to you.” He held his head in his hands, absolutely spooked. “Sagishi and Teruteru are going to fucking murder me.”

_ -fin- _

**Author's Note:**

> alt title: when you’re a genius but you’re also really fuckin horny so you pretty much shut your brain off for five minutes to go get some dick


End file.
